makinglies | Duplicity AU: Justice for a General

"We probably won't actually starve." There were a lot of options to avoid cooking here, at least. Even for them who were possibly two of the least equipped to take care of themselves people in the city, between technology differences and lack of knowledge to even transfer.

He left Anders to get the brush, went into the living room and took his mug of tea, and put the hairbrush down on the couch. Before sitting down on the floor in front of it, so his back would be to Anders for it to be brushed.

"Can you talk about Justice without... that happening again?"

He sat with the hair brush in hand, his own mug to the side, already largely forgotten for now. Gently, he worked from the ends of Alaric's hair and up, it was slower, but better for longer hair. At least, that was what he remembered Dane telling Nate when the archer fought with his own long hair.

"...I can. If you'd like. Everything going on outside and then finding you like that...he was already agitated. Through him, I can feel there's something wrong in the city. A magical energy that's putting things off, I'm just not sure what. Anyway, when Justice is agitated, my anger bleeds into him and he can be sensitive about certain things." Like being called a demon.

"You must understand, turning into a demon is probably his greatest fear, I don't think it's unfair to be upset about that, though his reaction was too much, it's not acceptable that he threatened you."

He was a little wary of the conversation - wary in a physical sense - but he had broached it for a reason and that reason was that he saw value in having it.

For now his priority was simply in gaining information. Which he had to remind himself of rather than say he didn't think there was anything that he must understand about that encounter.

He simply did not respond to it at all. Intentionally chose not to challenge beliefs, yet, because he would not get information if he did.

Alaric tilted his head down so Anders could reach his hair more easily and sipped his tea.

"How did you become friends?"

"I hope you're ready for a longer story, but I'll try to keep it to the details." He let the work of his hands keep his mind focused and even Justice seemed to shirk from the incoming story.

"When I was twenty-five, I was on escape attempt eight when I was offered a chance to join a group called the Grey Wardens by their leader and the land's new queen, Dane Cousland. She made the offer in order to save me from a group of templars who'd come to collect me and wanted me dead. I'm sure she would have let me avoid The Joining if I'd truly wanted to, but the Grey Wardens are the only way a mage may be free outside the circle and they're considered great heroes for defending the land from ancient monsters called darkspawn. I didn't see a reason to say no.

"I took the joining and followed the Warden-Commander for half a year. In that time, we were on the trail of a missing Warden named Kristoff, that trail lead us to Blackmarsh where there were evil magics about, poisoning the land. In our efforts to end the magic, we were trapped in the Fade, the land of spirits and the source of all mage's magic. While we were there, we found the source of the evil in the form of a Pride demon tormenting the land's villagers whose souls were also trapped there. Defending the villagers, we found a spirit of Justice who'd seen the demon's actions and took offense. We sided with him and fought the demon together, but the resulting magical surge threw all of us out of the Fade, including Justice. He was thrown into the nearest available body...which happened to be Kristoff's corpse."

He paused as he finished with Alaric's hair and set the brush aside, replacing it with his fingers. Just to be sure.

"He was stuck outside of the Fade, so he decided to travel with us, finding our cause a worthy one. We got to know each other more and talked a bit. We were as much brothers-in-arms as I was with any of the others." A heaviness settled in his chest and he gave a small sigh. "Anyway, the queen had to return to the capital at some point, so a replacement from another country came in and took over. He flipped everything over and separated my group. He didn't know what to do with a possessed corpse and he didn't trust me since I was a mage, so he'd send us out to do missions with some new recruits he'd had join. A group of templars who 'wanted a new course in life.' They made it very clear they were there for me."

He felt that stirring, anger from Justice at the memory, the betrayal, the pain of having the people who were supposed to be his family throw him to the dogs-

"One day, while we were out, the match didn't go very well. The templars cut down Kristoff's body and, in a great shock, turned on me. He offered to help. Neither of us had a choice."

He listened quietly, soothed on a physical level by Anders working at his hair. There remained a bit of tension - focus of a particular sort, watching for signs that Justice would take over again - but for the most part he was simply quiet and listening.

He tried to listen without judgement, but he was not entirely successful. The story and explanation were clear enough, but-

He had so many of his own associations and views that he could not entirely remove them. Not only religious ones - he was far from a good Catholic - but ones involving corpses animated by magic. And, of course, spirits he could see on rare occasions, of various sorts. Mostly when he was a child.

He leaned a bit more back and continued on with his tea when Anders moved from brush to hands, and stayed quiet even a little beyond the end of the story.

"Do either of you have a choice now?"

"No."

There's sadness in his voice, guilt. They'd accomplished something together...whether it was good or bad he...couldn't afford to think about yet, but it would affect the course of history either way. And yet, if he could take it all back...perhaps.

"Once a mage is possessed, there's no way to separate him from the spirit or demon possessing them. According to the Chantry, the only option is death."

There isn't a lot in his voice. That is part of why he has reverted to soft spoken. It is so much easier to disguise and limit what emotion is conveyed when your voice is low.

In truth, he isn't sure if that answer comes to him as a relief or a disappointment.

"What will happen to Justice when you die?"

His mind went back to the Chantry steps, the crate under him, digging into the back of his legs. The smell of ash and fire, the sky sickeningly orange with both. There were screams and cries and that was their doing. But it had to be worth it. It had to be or else...they really were only an abomination.

'The people fear us for what we can do, but to use that fear to bludgeon us into submission is wrong! And they do it with our blessing! If I pay for that with my life, then I pay. Perhaps then, Justice would at least be free.'

His own words ring out to him and he shook his head, though he knew it went unseen. "Perhaps he'd go back to the Fade, or simply die as well."

"So he wouldn't... simply continue to use your body?" Like that other poor man's?

These probably were not the questions he should be asking, but they were the most pressing ones for him. He wanted to understand. He needed to try to understand what he was dealing with.

Because no, he wasn't leaving. He has never left anyone he had committed himself to in his life, and the contract? It might have been impulsive and it might be new but it counted.

Edited 2020-10-03 19:53 (UTC)

Anders paused. He didn't actually have an answer to that and the rush of unease he felt he couldn't even fully attribute to either himself or Justice. "No, I don't think he would. He didn't particularly like inhabiting Kristoff's."

He thought about the merits of even bringing this part up, decided it might help. "When he was in Kristoff's body, he could...remember a few things from when Kristoff was alive, like what his mission was with the Wardens and the love he'd felt for his wife. I don't think he'd want to go through that again." Another pause. "Do you want up here on the couch or do you intend to stay down there?"

"That sounds as though it could be a ...painful reminder for him?" Or just inconvenient? He was trying not to make Justice re-emerge, to be honest. At least for the rest of the night, he hoped.

For both their sakes, but he'd deal with it again if he had to. Even immediately.

He considered the question of where he wanted to be without saying anything, then pivoted and climbed not onto the couch but onto Anders' lap, facing him again and with such delicate precision he didn't even tip over Anders' apparently untouched mug of tea.

"I think so." He hoped so...it wasn't like they could talk beyond the feelings and thoughts that felt like his own but weren't always. He liked to think that Justice would be sorry to have him gone and not that he'd see it as being freed from his in-house jailer.

He didn't get to sink too much further into that thought before he suddenly had his lap (and consequently arms) full of Alaric. Not what he'd been expecting, but something he appreciated. "You're obscenely graceful, you know that, right? It's rather attractive, I won't lie to you." He bought his arms around behind Alaric, one of his hands lightly stroking at his back where it happened to rest. "So...I'm possessed by a spirit and that's...workable for you, then? Or is this your way of letting me down easy?"

He was pretty settled down against Anders, almost immediately. That left him pulling back a bit to make a glib remark about his level of gracefulness and things he found obscenely attraction.

Anders' question however caught him entirely unprepared.

His expression went black with surprise, but quickly turned to faint but undeniable confusion. "I'm sorry, I don't understand. It is. I don't understand what workable means given that, and I certainly don't understand why I would want to let you down?"

He couldn't help the slightly derisive huff of laughter, though it was wry and directed at himself more than Alaric. "Sorry, it's just that this is usually the part where people condemn me or curse my name or try to find sharp things to remove the threat or...really a few options, but not usually sit in my lap and continue to be kind and close to me."

There was something a little more open, a little more vulnerable when he looks up at Alaric. "I just want to make sure you're sure that you don't want to avoid, hate, or fear me. Now's the time to say so." Rather a swift and understandable break now than one that comes after he's let hope and affection line his heart thicker than what was already there.

He could, he thought, actually try to soften things. He could also try to deflect. He respected Anders too much to do either of those things. His voice was quiet and relatively gentle, but he didn't pull punches.

"I do not hate or wish to avoid you. I have no desire to attack you with a sharp object. I am afraid. A good deal of my fear is for you, though not all of it. I do not like the idea of being forced to risk harming you to defend myself from Justice."

Because affection would grow, and loyalty, but he was not going to not.

Anders nodded, his grip tightening almost imperceptibly. That really wasn't all that different from what he'd just lived with for the last seven six years. Most of his...Hawke's friends didn't like him, some of them used to, before, but he knew they were all at least a little on edge. They fought with him at their backs, they let him heal them, they played Wicked Grace with him at the Hanged Man and complained when he usually won. Every single one of them knew where their weapons were at a moment's notice in case 'the abomination' stopped being docile. He wasn't even sure he could blame them, especially after the Alrik debacle.

"I can live with that if you can. I don't want to put you in that position either, but I am glad you'll defend yourself. I will always do what I can to put your safety over my comfort as long as you're with me, I hope you know that or, at least, can learn it."

One arm still firmly around Alaric's back, the other abandoned it's post to trail up and gently stroke Alaric's cheek. He shouldn't do that. He also shouldn't wish to kiss him, but that one he could at least resist in deference to what his friend had already been through today.

"I'm sorry, but I think I must admit that I would very much like to kiss you, if I may."

Well...mostly resist.

He was conflicted and that showed in a slightly frustrated expression and the fact that he laughed, but his laugh came out a touch strangled. There was warmth there all the same, but--

He had things to say about that level of prioritization.

Then again, maybe he shouldn't say them. Even if he wasn't reluctant to risk derailing the hand on his face and offer of (request for) a kiss. He might be able to use that later.

So, he decided to let that particular thing go and answered the 'request'.
"Yes, please." He curled his fingers around Ander's neck, leaned in and kissed him. Soft and light, but not confident or unsure. Just giving Anders an answer and waiting on Anders to (he hoped) kiss back.

It wasn't a fair position to put someone into, but the situation wasn't fair. He wasn't fair, he'd known that all his life. It was part of being with him, in any sense of that word.

He almost thought something might be said about it, but instead Alaric said yes and that was all that mattered. Said yes and initiated which put a flutter in Anders' heart like he was a teenager again and kissing his crush for the first time behind a bookcase. He didn't have to be quite so careful here.

He pressed back, the hand at Alaric's cheek slipping into his hair instead to pull him close. It was chaste, but it was heated, a certain level of need to it that gave too much away for how much just that meant to him. His affections ran too deep and sank in too easy. Not for everyone, but for certain someones...once his heart had decided, there was little his mind (or Justice) could do. For just a moment, he forgot it was better if he didn't do this to them.

When they parted again, Anders didn't go far, just pressed another kiss to the corner of Alaric's mouth. "Thank you."

He had some desperation of his own - not so much about Justice or in the aftermath of that, though that was part of it, but in the aftermath of his day.

Things weren't settled, no, and Justice was a concern but that kiss reminded him how badly he needed contact, needed affection, needed someone he trusted. He returned the kiss with control and stayed largely chaste, but his own brand of need was in there, too.

He made a low noise at the kiss to the corner of his mouth but immediately just curled down against Anders and slid his hands between Ander's back and the couch. "I don't want to hear gratitude from you for affection ever again. I will bite you." He pauses. "In places and ways that won't be enjoyable."

He gave a surprised laugh and curled his arms back around Alaric. Maker, even just holding him put so much warmth in him...mages aren't supposed to fall in love, but he could already tell he was failing that rule.

"I'll be more careful, I certainly would rather have the enjoyable bites. Maybe give a few of my own..." He nuzzled very lightly into the side of Alaric's head. "You know, a bed would likely be better for cuddling, just saying."

"If we move to a bed, what we end up doing will not be cuddling." It might be sleeping, actually, even if that's not what he was implying.

Sooner or later the adrenaline would have to wear off and he would have to trust Anders to go about his life. That point was just 'almost' not 'now'. The revelation about Anders and the out of control day of sex were- well, certainly a combination.

"And we can't have that." He said it teasingly, but took the meaning at face-value. Alaric had done more than enough 'physical activity' today, that wasn't Anders' intention in the least. Not today, anyway, another day when the idea wasn't so distasteful.

"Very well, I accept my new role as a bed, my good ser." He finally reached for his long-cooled tea and took a sip of it, his other hand taking up the important job of drawing symbols on Alaric's back.

"If this is still going on tomorrow, what are your intentions?"

He takes it at face value too; that Anders wan't going to be offended that Alaric didn't want to fall asleep.

Sadly the hand on his back was soothing and he pretty quickly settled his head down against Ander's chest. He didn't bother looking up in response to the question.

"Hope I can't be affected twice, see if there's any way I can be helpful to the people who are, and try to keep Subversion devolving into chaos that will result in people being hurt." How many options were there, really?

Anders hummed around his tea and set it back down to trace his hand down Alaric's arm. "I don't suppose I could convince you to come to Haven with me instead? You could help there instead?"

It was a hopeful thought, but not one he figured would result in anything. Alaric took his work seriously and if he thought he could be useful…Anders couldn't and wouldn't argue. That didn't stop him from wanting to have Alaric somewhere he knew he could keep him safe.

He took his job seriously because he was him, not because he believed the work to be particularly important in and of itself, or that he made much difference there.

He bit Anders' throat, lazily as he considered his answer. He...wasn't entirely sure how to feel about it. It would keep him close, but. "Will that leave you less...conflicted?"

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